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We don’t cry.
We bleed on paper.”
-a.y.
Warren
There’s a whole other pressure on your shoulders when you know you’re going to show your work to the world. It’s one thing when it’s just for you, private, but when you know people are going to come in and judge your labor of love, it’s… different.
I’ve been stressed lately, between my day job, working on art at night, and not knowing how to handle the situation with Jane; it’s been weighing on me. I know it’s weighing on her as well.
Part of me thinks I’m being unfair, pushing her to confront something she never has before. To tell her family—her only family—to back off. It feels unfair.
But, there’s another side to this where I’m the one being shoved aside, my feelings are invalidated—and I know, I’m a big, strong man, I should be able to handle it.
Maybe I shouldn’t put so much emphasis on my feelings.
The facts, though, are that she’s said one thing to me and did another. I’ve been confronted by people at work, asking me what’s going on with me and Jane, I’ve had her mother corner me while I was at a professional lunch and tell me my girlfriend and I were done.
I was at my wits’ end.
Then there’s another part of my life where I threw myself into my art. Lost hours just working on every single piece, making everything perfect.
My show was in five days. Five days to finish a mountain of work. I had to take off work, use all of my vacation days to make this work.
When I hear the tentative knock on the door, I know right away that Jane stands on the other side.
I wipe my hands on my jeans, adding more charcoal to them, and stride to the door. My heart hammers in my chest like it’s saying,she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, but I try to lock it down.
Lately she’s been busy. She told me she was working on something big at work, not to mention working on her presence with charities they work with.
It reminded me of why I fell for her in the first place, she had this way about her, this kindness that knew no bounds and she showed it to each and every person. It didn’t matter who you were, whether you were the CIO of the company, or the mailman. She treated everyone with kindness.
I swing the door open and take her in, my eyes devour every bit of her. She steps into my arms and I wrap her up, holding and squeezing her tightly to me. I breathe in her scent and close my eyes, a flicker of relief zips through me at the contact. It feels good to have her here.
She pulls away and I take in her hoodie and joggers, her outfit so casual. Her hair is up in a bun and her face is makeup-free. It’s a sight I love to death, and not many others get to see it. “Hi,” she says quietly, her eyes taking me in, and she smiles that brilliant smile. Even if it is a little dim.
“Hi,” I reply, my voice hoarse and I just… watch her. Warily.
“You look like you’re working hard, can I see?” Her hopeful question makes my chest squeeze and I rub the back of my neck.
“Uh, it’s not all done yet.” I watch her face fall and can’t help but say, “I think it’d have a better effect when you see it at the show.”
She nods, but her eyes shine a little, like she’s trying to stop herself from feeling so much. “Right. Of course.” She forces another smile. “I can’t wait to see it all come together.”
I nod but don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. We haven’t been intimate in over two weeks. Have barely kissed at all this week. It feels… strained. Not to mention god-awful.
“Are you—” She cuts herself off and I raise a brow, watching in horror at a tear slipping down her face. “Are you done with me?”
My heart drops and I shake my head, the words I want to say rush to the surface, but I force myself to stop, take a breath, think it through. “Have you made it clear to your mother that you won’t marry Jasper?”
“Warren, you know I’ve told her,” she replies, her eyes sad. “But there’s… there’s something more at play. Something bigger that needs fixing and I just need a little—”
“So that’s a no, then.” I shove my hands in my pockets and shake my head. “I don’t know what you want.”
“I want you.” She bites her lip, her hands wringing together. “I want us.”
“I do too, but…” I sigh.
